


(Truth is I'm Used To) Making it Up on My Own

by tomfoolery14



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec and Izzy are parabatai, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, American Sign Language, Deaf Alec Lightwood, Downworlder Politics, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 12:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18691954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomfoolery14/pseuds/tomfoolery14
Summary: alec lightwood is the newly appointed head of the new york institute, and magnus bane is the newly elected high warlock of brooklyn. alec is trying to forge new alliances and rebuild the pieces of the shadow world after valentine and the circle, but more than just an alliance is born when he meets magnus.or, a canon divergent oneshot set loosely between season 2 and season 3 about politics, justice, and infatuation





	(Truth is I'm Used To) Making it Up on My Own

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this has been a looooooong time coming and my goal was to have it done by today so yay i finally hit a deadline! this is a very canon divergent thing that just kind of happened when i sat down at my computer one day. 
> 
> i am not deaf or hard of hearing, but i was raised by someone who has been an asl interpreter for a living for over twenty years now. sign language was incorporated into my life since i was a baby, so i'm just going off of what my experiences have been and the knowledge i've received from others who are qualified. i definitely am not an expert nor am i claiming to be!

Alec Lightwood had been deaf all his life. _Born with a curse,_ his father used to say.

The eldest son of a family as revered as the Lightwoods was meant to carry the legacy on his strong shoulders and be the best at everything—soldiering, leading, diplomacy, all of it. His best in a perfect world would likely still not be good enough, but as a cripple, as the whispers went, he had to give twice as much, sacrifice twice as much, and suffer twice as much to atone for his inferiority and fulfill his purpose.

Had he been born the way his parents wanted him to be, he would have been the golden boy—the master of everything he touched, the triumph of every battle he fought, the ultimate prize to ever be won. When he was a child he was terrified that his parents could never forgive him for the way that he was. He could see the disappointment in their eyes every time they looked at him, and knew that there was nothing he could do to make up for what they perceived to be their loss.

No matter how much he tried to compensate for his disadvantage, it never seemed to make any difference to them. He trained harder than anyone in the Institute, the only one to go to bed with bruised and bloodied knuckles every single night. He spent hours upon hours more of practice on rune studies than anyone else when he was still taking his lessons prior to his ceremony. He studied his parents in their official capacities to learn as much as he could about what it meant to lead an Institute, to command soldiers.

He used hearing aids nearly all the time, but that could only do so much for someone born as he was. After thorough research into his diagnosis, Alec had found studies on devices such as something mundanes called a cochlear implant, and asked the medical team at the Institute about them, but after an exam by the Silent Brothers, it was determined to be hardly any more effective than the technology he currently used which was only affording him very moderately useful shades of hearing. Nothing could be done to restore him. Not even warlock magic, which his parents had attempted multiple times in his early childhood.

When he was a teenager, his Angelic Power rune still fresh on his skin, he began his descent into the darker recesses of his mind. He was struggling tremendously with the burden of circumstance paired with the yearning to be something _more_. He wished he could be the legacy that he was meant to be and assuming his role as he was meant to.

While certainly not what Robert and Maryse had hoped for, Alec was still the heir to their place in the hierarchy. Jace wasn’t of the Lightwood bloodline, Isabelle was far too recalcitrant, and Max would not be of age in time. When Robert divorced Maryse, the position of Head of the New York Institute was passed down to Alec at age twenty three.

As it happened, shortly after his appointment to head, a new High Warlock of Brooklyn was named; a man by the name of Magnus Bane who had a tremendous reputation, according to Isabelle and Jace. They’d been keeping their ears to the ground ever since word spread about his position. Alec was supposed to meet with every leading member of Brooklyn’s downworld factions to introduce himself in his new capacity anyway, but he felt a bit less overwhelmed by it all knowing that at least the high warlock could be empathetic to his circumstance.

_I hear he’s absolutely beautiful_ , Isabelle signed to him as they sat across from one another in the vast library. She was helping him to write a formal greeting speech to be read upon each introduction.

_Who?_ Alec questioned, though he already knew the answer.

By the look on her face, she knew exactly what he was doing. _Magnus Bane!_

Looking up from the paper she was writing on his behalf, Alec shook his head. _Why does that matter?_

She smiled at him as she shook her head and wore the expression she often did when she laughed. It was certainly not the first time he wished he could know what it really sounded like to hear her laugh. _It couldn’t hurt anything at least._

_I guess not,_ Alec relented, though the corners of his mouth turned down.

While he had given up much of the pretenses of expected duty that he’d once held onto like gospel, acting on his sexuality was one not quite reconciled. His siblings knew, and his mother to some extent, but shadowhunter society was definitely not a welcoming place for those who defying “polite” company. It was an ambiguous thing hanging over his head that perhaps one day he would have to marry a woman out of obligation and to continue on the bloodline, but his disadvantage worked as an advantage when it came to this scenario because not many parents were thrilled to marry their daughter off to what some considered a deficient soldier, even if he was the eldest son of a respected bloodline.

_When are you two meeting?_ Isabelle asked.

_Tomorrow afternoon. One._

She waved off his concern. _You’ve got your work cut out for you._

When they adjourned for the night, his statement prepared, Alec went to his office to tuck it away neatly in his file of documents for tomorrow’s meeting.

He couldn’t help the bit of worry that sat in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t uncommon for people to refuse to take him seriously or attempt to play him for a fool just because he was different. He had been scoffed at many times, and though it only strengthened his resolve to be the best leader and diplomat he could be, it still stung to feel like he was the punchline to a joke for some.

Many downworlders in particular would question his capability to lead effectively—they liked him for his new policies and the changes he tried to implement in order to truly apply equality and peace, but they feared for his resilience. The seelies were the only ones who saw his deafness as a positive; they were highly amused by and respected that Alec had honed his ability to read facial expressions and body language impeccably to accommodate for what he didn’t have and therefore was able to spot a trick even from them.

All he could do was press forward with his resolve strong and his head high. He would change what he could with determination and accept what he couldn’t with grace, just as a Lightwood should. He had done everything he could to be the same as everyone else—he learned how to read and write in primarily English, though still not as proficient as a hearing person particularly in his secondary languages such as Latin, understand most variations of English slang, and process vocal sounds he could manage to decipher with his aids.

It had to be enough.

Turning out the light in his office, he locked the door behind him and then started down the hall to his bedroom. He was tired, but he also felt like electricity was running under his skin with nerves. He just needed to get in bed and relax, and everything would be okay.

After a quick and efficient shower, he pulled on comfortable sweats and a slightly worn t-shirt that felt soft on is skin. He said his prayers to the Angel, kneeling on the carpet in front of the stained glass rendering of Raziel on his window, then crawled under the covers.

On his bedside table sat a small speaker that he switched on, keeping the volume low. While he couldn’t hear the notes or the words, he could feel the vibrations as they rattled the table, and he found it calming. He even had favorite songs for their pattern of vibration. Tonight, chose a song with a combination of powerful and abrupt beats similar to heartbeats and the mellow and gentle ripples of melody felt so calming against his palm. He drifted off with his hand still soaking up everything he could feel.

In the morning, Alec was up just before the sun, feeling hardly rested. The cafeteria was completely empty, just how he preferred when he first woke up. He took his time pouring a mug of coffee and spooning fresh fruit on top of his pancakes before taking a seat at a table in the back with enough chairs for Jace and Izzy if they showed while he was still eating.

He occupied himself now with reading while he ate— _Jonathan Livingston Seagull_ by Richard Bach. It was a seemingly often forgotten novel, if the fact that it was a book he stumbled upon accidentally tossed away in the back of a bookshelf was any indication. It told the story of a seagull that yearned for meaning in its life, something more than conformity and limitation, doing only as every other gull did. Jonathan needed some greater purpose, some freedom to be that he couldn’t yet find, and Alec oddly found himself empathizing.

All of a sudden, the table began to shake slightly, and Alec looked up from his book to Isabelle tapping the tabletop lightly to get his attention. _Good morning_ , she signed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. _What are you reading?_

_Nothing,_ Alec waved off, putting it aside. _You’re up early._

_I have weapons inventory to do today, and training. Too bad I’ll be missing Magnus Bane_.

Alec couldn’t help but grin. _I will tell you if there was anything worth seeing._

_You will do fine today, Alec,_ Isabelle signed more soberly. _You deserve to be Head of the Institute, and the Downworld is already supportive of the values you have expressed. Once you settle into your place, there will be no doubt that you are a good man and a good leader that they can trust and depend on._

Alec toyed with his fork for a moment, contemplating his response. _I guess we will find out,_ he finally replied.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a fire message, fluttering down towards his hand. He grabbed the singed end of it, reading the words that the fire left behind. _Mom is here to see me,_ he relayed to Isabelle, standing up. _See you later._

He wished that he could believe Maryse had the best of intentions coming to see him, that she truly wanted to wish him well in person as her fire message read. Something deep inside just couldn’t let go of the feeling that there was something more afoot. She would be waiting for him in his office, the one that had previously been her place of honor, and that felt intimidating.

The door to his office was slightly ajar when he rounded the corner, and once he stepped inside, he immediately noticed his mother sitting on the couch, staring into the fireplace absently. She appeared to have heard him because she turned and gave him a bit of a tight smile, but it was undoubtedly warmer than how it had once been. She opened her arms as she stood, and he allowed her to envelope him. She still smelled of the perfume she wore when he was a child; it took him back to being a toddler with his face tucked into his mother’s neck as he obediently waited through her adult conversations.

_How are you?_ Alec signed, looking at her.

The stern lines at the corners of her lips and creasing her forehead seemed to have softened since he’d last seen her. It was bitter sweet that his mother seemed to be happier without Robert. Alec was admittedly unsurprised that he had been a weight around her ankles to further drag her down as he had always been the most coldhearted and authoritarian of the two. She had changed as he got older, softening some of her sharper edges. It was odd to have a mother who was more of a mother to him now that he was an adult than when he was a child and needed her.

Both of his parents had treated him as a pupil of theirs, to teach and mold, rather than a child with love and acceptance. Even with his need for alternative communication, his parents were less enthusiastic about learning ASL, helping to make the world around him more accessible. His siblings were his constants, the foundation he could stand on—not Robert or Maryse.

_I am well_ , she offered, her motions noticeably stiff. _How are you feeling about meeting the high warlock?_ Her signs were very robotic, clearly unfamiliar for her, but it wasn’t lost on Alec that there was, however, an undeniable improvement from the last time he had seen her. The fact that it took being apart, leading his life independently of her, for her to make renewed effort made his chest ache.

_Prepared. We’re ready to welcome him into the Institute._ Turning halfway, Alec gestured to the coffee maker on the table in the corner. _Would you like coffee?_

_Yes, thank you,_ Maryse signed simply, smiling at him shyly.

Coffee was their buffer; if they had a mug in hand, their communication would have to overcome the obstacle, and often it wasn’t worth the effort. They sat opposite one another with their drinks in hand, Alec behind the desk and Maryse in the visitor’s chair, acting as if they only had to interact if the other broached a topic.

_Be firm,_ Maryse finally reiterated, setting her mug on the coffee table. _Be confident and assert the requirements of your alliance._

Alec nodded shortly. _I know_.

_I am_ … Maryse paused for a moment, and he didn’t know if it was to remember a word or piece together a lie or criticism. _Proud. You will be a wonderful Head, and you are ready to lead._

He wanted to believe that he made her proud, that she truly felt that way. He genuinely didn’t know if there was even anything left he could give that he hadn’t in the past to be what she wanted.

_Thank you._

Her nod in response was a bit awkward, but seemed to be a genuine display. _The coffee is good_ , she added, smiling.

After they made their way through another awkward fifteen minutes, Maryse stood and grabbed her purse. _I should be getting back. Good luck, Alec._ She reached up and hesitated for a moment before placing her palm against his cheek. Tender displays of affection were new for her, even towards her children. It was a comfort somehow, even though he’d been standing on his own for quite some time.

Alec counted down the minutes until his meeting with Magnus Bane, tapping his pen anxiously as he signed off on the files that had already begun to pile up for the day.

The bright light that blinked on his desk signaled someone at the door of his office; it was a doorbell system, but with lights. He would press the corresponding button to approve entrance. His formal Institute interpreter, Annalise, was waiting for him. After gathering his notes for the meeting, he walked by her side to the ops center.

He’d been working with Annalise for many years now, and their relationship as client and interpreter was exceptionally smooth. She was very familiar with his tones, expressions, and vocabulary, which was a blessing really. Whenever Alec had important meetings such as this, he would prepare at least an outline of what he wanted to say and then give it to her so she could familiarize herself with the content. Interpretation would never be seamless, but Alec knew he was tremendously lucky.

Her hand waving slightly in his line of vision drew his attention up to see a man being led through the hall by two shadowhunters flanking him. He was tremendously beautiful—ethereal was the word his brain supplied simply. The way he moved was smooth and fluid, utterly leonine in nature, as well as exuding confidence and control. His clothes were noticeably high quality and expensive, perfectly put together from the shoulders of his military jacket to the wingtips of his boots. His hair defied gravity the way it stood up from his head in neat, soft-looking spikes, offset by an undercut. Necklaces dripped down his chest like a waterfall of decadence and his fingers were adorned with large rings of varying degrees of ostentatious in look. Whatever Alec had expected Magnus Bane to be, this wasn’t it.

When they got close enough to shake hands, Alec offered his own while Magnus spoke to him. He was familiar with some words as they were spoken after many years of practicing with Isabelle. She would sign the word and then speak it so he could watch the way her mouth curled around it. Magnus used words Alec could easily decipher: “Mr. Lightwood, a pleasure.” They made direct, close eye contact for the first time then, and it was disarming how beautifully warm Magnus Bane’s eyes were.

Alec smiled in return, then looked at Annalise to encourage her to begin her own explanation of circumstances. It was a disclaimer for all intents and purposes, that explained that Alec Lightwood was deaf and required an interpreter to conduct his meetings; all communication from his end would be signed and she would then relay it verbally and vice versa for them.

The look of surprise on Magnus’ face made it clear that he had been left out of the loop, and Alec wasn’t sure if it made him nervous or relieved that he’d come into this meeting with no preconceived notions about his ability to perform his duty.

Most times, this little speech was met with some degree of discontent, but Magnus simply nodded his understanding after moving past his initial shock, and looked back at Alec to await his opening remarks. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention in a conversation, even when he was an integral part of it; Annalise was his voice and she was the one that tended to be received, not him. Alec had a feeling this was only the tip of the iceberg he’d uncovered in regards to the discords of Magnus Bane.

_High Warlock Bane, I am the new Head of the New York Institute, Alec Lightwood,_ he began _. As we will be working closely beside one another at times, I felt that a formal introduction was necessary. It’s important to me to begin my time as Institute Head on good footing with the leaders of each downworld faction. Positive relations through all circumstances will be the way we keep the Shadow World peacefully intact. Additionally, I offer my congratulations on your new appointment as high warlock._

Magnus smiled carefully as Annalise conveyed Alec’s message, and even though it was small, it was undeniably beautiful. As he spoke his response, Alec was drawn to the movements of his lips.

It was so odd to feel so captivated by someone, Alec realized, because even though he had known for quite some time that he could never feel for a woman what he was meant to, he’d never met a man who made him feel more than attraction accompanied by the occasional daydream. It was never even a thought at the forefront of his mind but now he was enthralled.

_Thank you for your congratulations, Mr. Lightwood,_ Annalise interpreted on Magnus’ behalf. _And I agree, a positive relationship is the key to our success as a people of the Shadow World. I will be looking forward to us nurturing a new companionship._ The nature of his words was tinged with a hint of coyness that was unfamiliar to Alec, particularly in such a formal setting. But he enjoyed the specialized kindness, tucked it away inside to consider later in private. _Might I have a tour of the Institute to familiarize myself? I assume I will be frequenting this building on a somewhat regular basis for portals or wards._

_Of course,_ Alec agreed. _I planned to walk you through myself._

Magnus raised his hands, and then to Alec’s surprise, performed familiar motions. _I think we can handle that one on one, don’t you think?_ Magnus signed.

Alec shared a look with Annalise, certain the faintly amused and curious look on her face was mirrored on his own. After a moment, she took her leave, and he was free to look back at the enigmatic warlock before him.

_I don’t understand_ , Alec confessed.

_I am familiar with ASL. I had a young ward in my care for many years, and she was very dear to me. I am a bit rusty after many centuries of memories and information pile up, so I apologize. But I will do my best._

Alec couldn’t help but smile widely. No one outside of his family and Annalise had communicated with him his way. Shadowhunters he lived and fought alongside for most of his life still could hardly convey three words to him in sign language. But this beautiful stranger could speak his language, as it were, and chose to use it even when he had an easy way out.

He was quick to assure him, to offset any hesitation or concern. _That is more than enough! Thank you, very much._

_No need,_ Magnus waved off kindly. _Lead the way, Mr. Lightwood._

It wasn’t lost on Alec that the eyes of every shadowhunter in their path were drawn in by the spectacle he and Magnus Bane made. A man like Magnus didn’t belong amongst the sea of monochromatic gradation that covered every area of the Institute. He was entirely too striking, the sterile atmosphere incapable of doing him the justice he deserved. Alec found himself thanking the Angel for taking his hearing rather than his sight.

_If I may_ , Magnus asserted upon being shown to Alec’s office where they would conduct any future personal business, _what is your hope for relations with the warlock community? What goals do you have in mind?_

_Peace_ , Alec said simply. _With Valentine Morgenstern and the Circle only just defeated, our world is reeling and trying to rebuild. We need to be better this time, and that won’t come without unity and respect from us all, for us all._

_Were you there?_ Magnus questioned. _When Valentine Morgenstern was destroyed, did you fight?_

_I was, and I fought._

_As did I,_ Magnus replied, looking intently at Alec for a moment. _Where did you fight? The battlefield?_

_From the perch; I am an archer._

_I fought on the field._ His fingers rubbed together at his side in a motion of thoughtfulness. _Why did you fight?_

_Because the annihilation of all downworlders because they share demon blood is barbaric._

_Not because Valentine was a stain to the title of shadowhunter and mistakes needed to be cleaned up?_ he questioned, expression unreadable.

Although Alec was a bit stunned by his frankness, he could understand why Magnus would question him. The Clave was founded on angel blooded superiority, and it was a known fact by some like the Lightwoods that much of the help that was offered in defeating the Circle was motivated by the chance to seize an opportunity to erase a mistake.

Before he could reply, however, Magnus’ expression softened once again. _No need, Mr. Lightwood; I can see in your eyes you aren’t a liar. Many in your place have been, and many in mine have been too._ Waving his hand, two martini glasses appeared on Alec’s tabletop. Holding one out to Alec, he nodded encouragingly.

Alec wasn’t much of a drinker, but he didn’t think twice about accepting it gratefully.

_To us_. Magnus touched his glass to Alec’s before taking a hearty drink.

Alec, by comparison, took a more measured sip. The corners of his mouth started to tighten reflexively at the burn of the alcohol, but he fought it back—unconvincingly, if the amused look on Magnus’ face was any indication. To hide the blush rising on his cheeks, he looked down into his glass.

It was so foreign for him to be interacting with anyone like this at all, let alone a man. To be warm and friendly with a tinge of coy and flirtatious was something he’d never had before, and never really thought he could have at all. His heart had never beat in his chest like a hummingbird’s wings, and his palms had never sweat from nervous excitement, and his skin had never tingled just knowing that he was being looked at.

Magnus’s touch against his arm drew his gaze back. With a swirl of gentle blue magic, a single flower appeared in his hand and he held it out to Alec. _It’s a King Protea; according to the Greeks, it was named after Proteus, the son of the god of the sea Poseidon, who had the power to see the past, present, and future. To keep the people from seeking him out for his insights, he would change his appearance. The flower came to be defined by its various forms and as a symbol of diversity, courage, and strength. Some also say new beginnings, transformation, and daring._

Taking the flower carefully, Alec traced the petal along the side thoughtfully. _It’s beautiful_ , _thank you_.

_May this be the beginning of a new and better era, Mr. Lightwood._ With a subtle twitch of his fingers, Alec’s alcohol was replaced with water, and Magnus gestured towards it. _I hope we can make something to be proud of._

_I look forward to our new dawn_ , Alec agreed, placing the flower into the water before setting it on his desk in pride of place. _Allow me to walk you out._

As soon as they parted ways, Magnus called up a portal, and between one blink and the next he had disappeared with it.

With the vibrancy of Magnus Bane suddenly erased, Alec felt like everything around him had been desaturated. He wasn’t sure how to process all that had happened since meeting Magnus, how to sort through the feelings that had been stirred up inside. He was greatly looking forward to catching up with Isabelle tonight because he had a lot on his mind.

That evening, after Alec’s shower, Isabelle came knocking on his bedroom door with a new upgrade to his hearing aids.

_Give this a try, see how you like it_. She clipped it carefully back onto his ear and turned it on. After looking him in the eye for a moment, waiting for his nod of approval, she brought her hand up and snapped twice.

It was a little less tinny and muffled, but still faint as ever. Any improvement was helpful, though, and thanked the Angel every day that Izzy put so much effort into trying to make the world more accessible for him. Ever since she became one of the Institute’s leading experts in their technology and adapting tools for their use, she had been working tireless towards improving his aids. He nodded at her, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead gratefully. _Thank you._

_Don’t worry about it._ She pulled her legs up onto the bed and tucked them beneath her. _So, how was your meeting with Magnus Bane?_

_It went well. He’s…quite magical._

_‘Quite magical?’_ Izzy repeated, raising an eyebrow to encourage him on. _That sounds promising._

_He’s totally captivating, Izzy. I’ve never been around anyone like him before. When he performs magic, it’s like what people say about poetry in motion. It just comes so naturally and easily, and I’ve never seen anything like it._ _He’s so charismatic and articulate and intelligent as well. He seems to believe in my ambition and aligns with my goals; he didn’t look at me like he questioned how I got here, why I was given authority. He looked at me and just seemed to see_ me _; not what everyone uses to categorize each other._ That was the best part, Alec realized. Knowing that someone was looking at him and seeing who he felt he was inside rather than the pieces he was missing was a kind of euphoria he’d never come close to.

Isabelle reached for his free hand, squeezing tightly. She had always been his rock, the one who loved him when he couldn’t love himself. When he tore himself to shreds and carried more burdens than his shoulders could bear, she was the one who reminded him that he was meant for greatness, that nothing would be able to come between him and leading his people as Raziel had laid out for him. _I told you. You’re meant for this, Alec. You have an ally now that you made yourself. This is the start of your time._

With the flat of her palm, Isabelle touched his parabatai rune, drawn to accommodate the curve of his hipbone. At her touch, it flared with tremendous warmth both internally and externally, recognizing its equal. _And he seems to be a pretty incredible person._

_He knows ASL_ , Alec added with a grin, knowing the kind of response it would evoke in his sister but nevertheless just as entertained when her jaw dropped in shock.

*          *          *          *

Two months passed before Alec saw Magnus Bane again, under unexpected circumstances.

On the rare occasions that Alec was able to take any time off from the Institute, he liked to spend it out in the city. Brooklyn had always been his home and he loved it dearly, with all its flaws and detriments. He loved the irregular stains on the concrete sidewalk, the smell of street food in the air, the ease at which he could get lost amongst a crowd even without a glamour.

Lately his favorite way to kill time was to visit the family owned bookstore three blocks over from the Institute, take his purchases to the coffee shop next door, and get lost in his reading for as long as he could allow himself. Sometimes he would get a hot dog for lunch before going to the bookstore if he was particularly hungry.

Today was one of those days. He bought himself a hot dog with everything on it and settled onto a bench to watch people go by while he ate.

The entire afternoon spanned ahead of him, unplanned and unburdened with obligation. These days were few and far between, and he usually ended up feeling overwhelmed by the amount of freedom because it was so unprecedented. Overthinking had always been his specialty, and the times that required him to do a lot less thinking were a stretch. The bookstore seemed like the best course of action, and he could easily spend hours lost amongst the shelves, so that seemed like the easiest allocation of his time.

When he stood up, he tossed his wrapper in the nearby trashcan and started back along the sidewalk. As people passed him by, some with their young children or dogs, he wondered what the world might sound like around him.

It wasn’t the first time; when he was younger and leaving the Institute or any part of the shadowhunter bubble almost never happened as long as his parents had anything to say about it, he was a bit frightened by it all because he knew he was experiencing it so differently from everyone else. He wondered about the sounds of the cars passing by, the coalescence of a thousand conversations becoming a steady hum, the sound of feet on the ground walking, running. The world as he experienced it through his hearing aids was limited to say the least—it was a shade of grey rather than any true color. His world was complete to him because it was all he’d ever known, but he couldn’t help but be curious about how everyone else experienced it because he knew it was vastly different from his own. And he knew that he was often pitied for his own.

The chipped paint of the bookstore doors came into view, and Alec smiled to himself, looking forward to the smell of old volumes, aging leather covers, sunlight-warmed wood, and autumnal candles he’d grown accustomed to.

Ouroboros was never very busy when compared to even its family owned competition. It specialized in the more unique and specific studies of old. Alec was usually one of the youngest patrons that frequented the store, and he couldn’t say he minded the solitude; in fact he rather welcomed it, particularly on a day off.

Alec pushed through the door and immediately moved towards the collection of books near the back of the shop—the very old collections in various old languages were kept there, and they were often his favorites.

Learning how to understand written language was a stretch for him to learn, but he was grateful he’d done it. The richness of words carefully chosen that, twisted his heart and sat heavy in his chest was one of the most remarkable things about being human—stories, myths, letters…

The feeling of worn leather-bound book covers beneath Alec’s fingers was soothing, and he traced the lines of printed titles with precision as he skimmed them. But suddenly, the back of his hand touched the smooth skin of someone else’s. He looked up with a start.

_Mr. Lightwood!_ Magnus greeted, holding out his hand.

Alec shook it instinctively as his mind scrambled to find solid standing. _Alec_ , he managed to say. _Just Alec is fine._

The warm brown eyes that looked back at him made a feeling of calm crest behind his ribs. _A compromise, then_ , Magnus offered. _I presume Alec is short for something. Alexander, perhaps? Extraordinarily fitting._

_Yes_. He’d never liked using his full name because it had grown heavy over the years with expectations and burdens and guilt. When he was a child, Robert and Maryse exclusively called him Alexander, until he was about six years old and he insisted on being Alec. Heavy is the head that wears the crown—that was one of his earliest lessons, and Alexander had grown entirely too weighty to carry. But now, seeing the smile on Magnus’ face as he addressed him as Alexander, he liked the idea of reclaiming it once again. _I assume Mr. Bane is too formal for you too?_

_Entirely!_ Magnus’ tone of speech was faux-scandalized, and it made Alec grin. _Magnus is more than suitable, I assure you. So. Alexander. What are you up to on this fine day? I’m surprised to see you away from the Institute when I know how hard you work to keep the cogs turning as they should._

_A rare day off_.

With a nod of encouragement, Magnus inclined his head. _You deserve one, I’m sure. If you’d be so kind as to indulge me, how about a cup of coffee? I’ll buy._

_I was planning to go by Jupiter Coffee when I was done here,_ Alec hedged. The prospect of something as mundane as coffee with the High Warlock of Brooklyn, even in his unofficial capacity, was almost preposterous enough to make him laugh. _You can join me if you like, or we can go somewhere better. I know Starbucks is a favorite for most people._

_No need,_ Magnus insisted, lightly brushing his hand along the back of Alec’s as it swept down towards his side. It was brief, and only the faintest of touches, but it left a trail of warmth in its wake. _I am happy to acquiesce._

As promised, Magnus bought coffees for the both of them without a second thought—a red eye with milk for Alec and an iced chai latte for him.

A table right next to the fireplace was open, and Alec steered them towards it. It was his favorite spot in the whole coffeehouse.

Magnus took a long sip of his drink as soon as they were seated then shot Alec a smile. _People often seem to think me a snob because I have expensive taste, but coffee is often the world of hidden gems._

_I have to admit that I was surprised to see you at Ouroboros too._ Of all people, Alec did his best not to pass judgement on anyone, but Magnus truly defied most of his expectations. He was a puzzle he didn’t have the key to figure out yet.

_You’ve heard the rumors about me, I take it?_ The look on Magnus’ face wasn’t angry or disappointed, but rather complacent, resigned to this line of questioning.

Truthfully, Alec had looked into the files on hand at the Institute concerning High Warlock Magnus Bane. It was something to be taken with a grain of salt to be sure, but he was simply trying to assuage his curiosity. He’d flicked through photos dating back to a few centuries ago, read summations of his employment within the warlock community, and skimmed through his specialties in magic. The man in print was only a one facet, one shade of Magnus. Alec had seen much more than just the rich and hedonistic eccentric that his Institute dossier made him out to be.

_I’ve got the general gist of it_. He felt it was important to tread carefully, the thought of hurting Magnus’ feelings or making him think he believed he was as simple as the traits people had reduced him to one he couldn’t entertain. _But I know that if it were all true, you wouldn’t have taken a chance on me the way you did when we first met._

Magnus gave him an appraising look, a hint of what might be affection playing at the corners of his mouth. _What was it that you expected me to be?_

_I have no idea. All I really know is that you were nothing I was anticipating._ Alec paused for a moment. _Other than that I had heard you were attractive._

_No one told me how handsome you would be, pretty boy,_ Magnus replied with a subtle wink.

Alec could feel the heat blooming up his neck to his cheeks, betraying him. He was fine at accepting compliments for his work or his leadership, but to be singled out for something like this somehow felt…different.

In an effort to change the topic, he asked _How did you become the high warlock?_

He didn’t seem to have fooled Magnus at all, but he didn’t seem concerned by it or unhappy. _I’m sure you knew Brooklyn’s former high warlock, Lowell Grey. He was a good man, but he was struggling to keep the community afloat. Many warlocks were voicing their concerns about his ability to adequately represent them, and when the question of a replacement was brought up many of them felt that my involvement assisting the community as well as the individuals proved I was a good fit to succeed the position. It hadn’t really been my ambition to be high warlock of Brooklyn, but I’ve always valued being able to assist anyone I can, and when it came to my attention that my family for all intents and purposes wanted me to be that leader…I couldn’t say no._

_I can understand that._ Being the head of the New York Institute wasn’t something he ever had the chance to really consider for himself. It was just always what he was groomed for, meant for. The older he got, though, the less it mattered if it was what he would have chosen for himself because he was prepared to help his people and invest his efforts into improving relations in the shadow world. _I was in kind of a similar place myself,_ he admitted. It just felt so easy to talk to Magnus that words just came spilling out. _What did you do before you got the position?_

_I spent years traveling, bouncing from place to place. It wasn’t hard to find work with the skills I’ve been able to hone over the years, plus there’s always a market for those looking for magical assistance._ To further emphasize his words, Magnus twisted his wrist slowly, causing blue flames to skitter across the back of Alec’s hand like a soft brush of fingers. _I liked the nomadic lifestyle, never in one place for more than a decade. I’ve been in New York for the better part of a century though, coming alongside the young downworlders that come into my care._

_Like the ward you mentioned, who you learned ASL for?_ Alec questioned.

Magnus nodded, a faint look of surprise noticeable in his expression. _Yes, a mundane child with the Sight. Her name was Evelyn, and she was orphaned at four years old after a demon attack killed her parents. I had her, raised her, for six years until she was put into the care of the Silent Brothers._

_That’s really generous of you to be there for people that way, to take them in and be a mentor._ The shadowhunters’ way of raising their children was to throw them into the deep end to teach them to swim; it was about survival and self-sufficiency. Survival of the fittest would weed out the weak ones, and in time, every soldier would die and return to dust without more than a second thought.

_I do my part to make better what I can_ , Magnus replied modestly. _Now, tell me about how you came to be the head of the Institute._

_I’m sure I wasn’t what you were expecting either,_ Alec pointed out with a wry smile.

The confusion on Magnus’ face didn’t seem to be fabricated, however, when he replied: _Why would you say that? I had no preconceived notions about you coming into the meeting. All I had heard about you was that you are the firstborn of Robert and Maryse Lightwood._

Reaching up to let his finger curve around his hearing aid, Alec drew Magnus’ gaze to it pointedly. _This is never an easy pill for anyone to swallow when they first meet me. I’m used to being doubted for my disadvantage._

_With all due respect, the Robert and Maryse I am familiar with would never dream of supporting a successor to their legacy who wasn’t capable of maintaining it._ Magnus’ fingers fanned out delicately, his rings catching the light. _I have every reason to believe you’re a capable leader and ally._

Alec felt a swelling sensation in his chest at the compliment. _I appreciate your faith in my abilities._

Magnus’ smile was tremendously kind when he responded _I have seen no reason to doubt you—your reputation speaks for itself as I have now seen with my own eyes._ Alec was used to being looked down on, felt bad for, but with him, he was only ever met with compassion.

_I have to say,_ Alec began, shifting to a lighter tone, _I have never met someone who’s used sign language instead of my interpreter._

_There’s a first time for everything, Alexander._ He reached across the table top slowly, fingers extended. He was allowing Alec the space and time to pull away if it was what he wanted, but when he stayed where he was, their knuckles brushed softly. _If I may be so bold, have you always been deaf?_

_Yes. My parents took me to a handful of warlocks after treatment with the Silent Brothers couldn’t fix me, but their magic couldn’t do anything more for me either._ Fingers instinctively twitched towards the outer shell of his ear where they rested along his jaw for a moment. _Hearing aids can only do so much for me—a little, more realistically. My sister tries her best to make improvements where she can, but there’s just not much to be done._

_Why do you wear them if they don’t really help?_ Magnus asked, not unkindly.

A short inhale preceded his answer. _In a fight, it’s better than nothing. One tip off can be the difference between life and death when you’re cornered. Anytime I’m not alone, it’s safer to know more about what’s going on around me. And before you say it,_ the corners of Alec’s mouth tipped up, _you don’t need to be sorry for me._

_Believe me, I wouldn’t dare._ Magnus laughed, leaning back in his chair cheerfully. _Alexander Lightwood is certainly not one to be pitied._

_I’d like to think so._ Holding up his paper cup, Alec tapped it to Magnus’ lightly.

They talked for an hour, somehow able to plumb the depths of their thoughts with the same ease as they discussed the things that hardly mattered at all. Alec couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed a conversation with someone like this, feeling like he was simply a person talking to another person. All of his flaws, the things that made him other, didn’t seem to exist like this. Parting left a feeling of undeniable sadness sitting heavy in his stomach—he didn’t want the time to end.

_Allow me to portal you back to the Institute,_ Magnus insisted warmly.

Alec couldn’t find it within himself to decline, so he just nodded. _Thank you, I really appreciate it._

The shimmering blue whirlpool of magic spanned almost the entire width of the alleyway they had turned down to avoid drawing attention. It generated a tremendously strong wind that whipped Alec’s hair across his forehead and made his eyes water slightly.

_I hope we can see one another again soon._

Magnus’ words sparked a kind of hope in Alec. His tenderness for Magnus Bane was growing like wildflowers inside of him, and soon he would have a whole garden—the most fragile things in his warrior’s hands. He was forged by trials into a weapon, and a lethal blade couldn’t be tender in its touch.

_Angel willing,_ Alec replied, taking a few steps closer to the portal. _Thank you for the coffee and good conversation._

_It was as much my pleasure, I assure you._ With a nod of encouragement, Magnus guided him to step through.

The last thing Alec saw was the kind smile on his face, before he was swallowed by the flare of magic. It smelled of burnt sugar and felt cold against his skin. His stomach felt like it had dropped for a moment—a singularly unpleasant sensation it took everyone time to become accustomed to. And then, he was spit out at the front doors of the Institute, standing on the stone steps in front of the large double doors.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head, and took the stairs two at a time as he entered the Institute. It was early evening and patrols were beginning to congregate in the ops center for dismissal, so he had to slip through the throngs of young shadowhunters gathering their gear and weaponry to make his way to his room.

A warm kind of tingling buzzed beneath his skin, and he needed an outlet to expel the nervous-excited energy. It seemed to be a side effect of being around Magnus. It wasn’t a bad feeling—far from it—but it made him feel a bit too chaotic. His hands were visibly trembling, yearning.

He made a brief stop to change his clothes and wrap his hands before entering the empty training room. All the lights had been turned out from lack of use and all implements stowed away. The air wasn’t stale or heavy with perspiration, which was a rarity and certainly meant that Alec would have the whole room to himself without interruption.

The drag of the freestanding punching bag across the mat was the only sound in the room. Flexing his fingers to check the strength of the tape that spanned from the middle of his fingers to the base of his wrists, he hummed in assent before throwing his first punch.

Combat was child’s play for Alec at this point in his life. For as long as he could remember he had been training to be a fighter, a warrior, a soldier. The aches and pains that came with it were incidental, and the dull pain when his hand met the bag hardly registered. It took a lot to hurt, and he didn’t do that anymore.

The scars on his hands were years old now, pale white and only visible against his alabaster skin if the light hit them just right. Assuming anyone even knew to look for them. He wasn’t proud of his struggle, but the past was ironclad and nothing could be done to change it. It made his stomach turn to think of how he used to revel in the feeling of blood between his knuckles; it meant he had worked hard enough, given enough of himself. The sharp sting of split skin was his mark for good enough. The marbling of blue and purples bruising was a warped kind of prize for his efforts. Pain grounded him once upon a time, and punishing himself became a twisted kind of reward.

Not tonight, Alec reminded himself. Not for a very long time.

*          *          *          *

Being the official host of the annual Institute Gala was one of the things that topped the list of tasks Alec hated the most about acting as head of the Institute. The entire thing from start to finish was a waste in his opinion; its written purpose was to bring together the factions of the Shadow World in harmony and cooperation but in execution it was nothing short of a performative façade. He had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason why the tradition was still upheld was for political leveraging. It was a perfunctory act to keep up appearances of harmony and peace.

Were it actually taken seriously, used as a platform to bring all sects of the Shadow World together by forging genuine unions, Alec would treat it much more formally. Rome wasn’t built in a day, as the mundanes said, and the best he could do this time around was foster an environment capable of change.

With a mechanical smile plastered on his face, he greeted each new guest with a nod and a handshake, Annalise at his side. He was genuinely pleased, however, by the fact that there seemed to be more invitees of each downworld faction present than there had been in the recent past.

One of the last to arrive was Magnus, in all his glory.

Alec lost his breath at the sight of him—black and gold against the drab color palette of the Institute was nothing short of striking. His suit and tie were black, but his waistcoat was an outstanding, warm gold. His shoes were a slightly heeled boot with golden studs. He’d even changed the streaks in his hair to match, from navy blue to caramel. If he didn’t know better, Alec would think Magnus belonged there amongst the angel-blooded creatures, because he was certain that nothing could look more saintly.

The forced warmth in his expression gave way to the real thing, softer and kinder. _Mr. Bane, I am so pleased you were able to make it tonight_.

_I was honored by the invitation. I’ve heard tales of the Institute gala, and I am thrilled to be attending._ The corners of Magnus’ eyes crinkled, and the apples of his cheeks looked soft as they rose with his smile. _And I want to say I appreciate that you’ve continued the event under your era of leadership._

Alec waved off the compliment, unable to bring himself to truly take credit for something so steeped in placation and inauthenticity. _It is not really what I would have in mind for improving politics,_ he hedged.

As a means of feigning shock, Magnus’ eyebrows rose high on his forehead and his lips parted slightly. _You mean to say you don’t think formal attire and pretentious mingling will effectively unite shadowhunters and downworlders_?

_Sorry to disappoint,_ Alec teased. He turned to glance over his shoulder at the gathering in the great hall. _Please help yourself to drinks, food, whatever you would like._

_I hope our paths will cross again tonight, Mr. Lightwood._ With a respectful nod to Alec and then Annalise, he swept past them to be swallowed up by the masses of people mingling in cliques.

Time moved sluggishly for Alec as his host duties officially commenced, moving in and out of clusters of vampires, werewolves, seelies, and warlocks with polite conversation and political musings. He couldn’t blame them for being hesitant to engage with him—repairing what Valentine and the Circle broke, compounded by the long and sordid history of prejudice and mistreatment, would take much more than a few band aids. The Head of the New York Institute was a position long laden with tradition and acceptance. Willful ignorance, even, under the guise of the status quo. Attempting to make any alteration to the current system would be quite the undertaking, and he had known that going in.

He only took a break from his circulating when Izzy intercepted him with a plate of food. _You need to eat something; you can afford to take a little break. Go out on the balcony for a breather. Jace and I can cover for you._

For a moment, he considered rebuffing her, but just looking at the plate made his stomach growl. _Thank you, Iz._ Carefully slipping between throngs of people, Alec moved towards the side of the hall where the balcony doors were open. The autumn breeze sweeping across his forehead cooled the sweat that had started to bead.

He watched Jace and Izzy continuing the rounds for him, their body language comfortable and at ease. Isabelle had always been the one that people warmed to the quickest, with her warm smiles and sociable disposition. She had dated numerous downworlders, earning not only their trust but the trust of those who knew of her. Jace, on the other hand, was hardly a diplomat. But he was friendly and laid back, looking for a good time wherever it may be. Alec was the reserved one that treated relations like the fragile thing they were in the political arena—he was kind but careful, never wanting to cross the line, to breach the surface of discretion and tact.

Wafts of cigarette smoke suddenly caught Alec’s attention and he abandoned his plate in lieu of following the smell. It lead him out past the balcony doors and onto the cold concrete. There were a handful of downworlders conversing in quiet tones, and one man standing alone in the corner with a cigarette between his fingers. Alec moved towards him, and as he got closer, he realized it was Magnus. With tentative fingers, he reached out and touched his shoulder carefully, trying not to frighten him.

Magnus didn’t jump, simply inclining his head to look over his shoulder. He exhaled slowly as smoke curled around his lips as it left his mouth. _Good to see you again, Mr. Lightwood._ With elbows on the railing, he leaned over to look out at the span of the city lights before them.

Keeping a respectful distance from Magnus’ arm, Alec mirrored his position. _How are you enjoying the gala?_ he asked. Warmth from Magnus started to leech through the fabric of Alec’s blazer, even with the careful space he kept between them, and it was a comforting kind of feeling, tempting to lean into.

_I love a good bit of festivity,_ he replied, taking another drag on his cigarette. The embers grew bright and bold, then faded to their original pale orange, and ash fell from the end. Seeming to notice Alec’s attention on it, he smiled. _It’s a horrible habit, and difficult to break at that. Hence, the smoke break. I’ve been trying to quit for a decade but you know what they say about old habits._

Despite being unfamiliar with the reference Magnus was making, Alec nodded nonetheless. Context offered more than enough understanding.

_Anyway, you should be proud—the evening has clearly been a success given its lack of confrontations. It’s a relatively peaceful atmosphere you’ve created._ With a slight flick of his wrist, Magnus summoned a fresh martini to toast Alec with before taking a sip. _You mean what you say, and your intentions are genuine. That’s a rarity for many leaders. I do not envy the burden you carry—your task to unite the shadow world under the Accords, in your name, for all intents and purposes… That’s a tremendous burden._

_When we were kids, my sister always used to say to me “heavy is the head that wears the crown.” That she didn’t envy me for it because she knew just how much it asks._ When Magnus reached over to brush the back of his knuckles against Alec’s, he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was a caress, and though it last only a moment, it was an extraordinary one.

_The Lightwood legacy is quite a substantial one, from what I’ve heard tell,_ Magnus offered. _There is tremendous pride in your bloodline, and you’re expected to honor them all. If I may offer my two cents, however…_ He paused to wait for Alec’s consent to continue. _I believe that you make them proud by being as strong and driven as they were. By putting value on your convictions and taking your role of leadership seriously._

That was a lesson he was working on learning, had been since his late teenage years when he understood the full extent of the dichotomy between his understanding of what being a leader looked like for him and what it had looked like for his parents, both for themselves and for their hopes to pin on Alec. To hear it from someone unfounded felt fatefully significant.

_I’m sorry, I know it is not my place,_ Magnus added, taking Alec’s silence as uneasiness.

Laughing lightly, Alec shook his head. _No, no, it’s not—You’re right_.

_Your sister clearly believes in you and thinks you’re going to be an amazing leader for the shadow world to look to._

_My sister?_ he questioned, turning to face Magnus directly.

Stubbing out the remainder of his cigarette, he nodded as he exhaled his last plume of smoke. _I met her this evening while you were making the rounds. She introduced herself as the Institute’s weapons master and lead forensic pathologist, but I could see the Lightwood spark in her—that defiance and confidence, excelling at what they set their mind to._ He paused for a drink of his martini. _Plus, when I asked about her parabatai rune we got to talking about you._

_I am glad to hear she was finally able to meet you, she’s been wanting to since you became the new high warlock._

_Well, it was certainly my pleasure. She is a phenomenally accomplished young thing, and I consider myself lucky to be working with the two of you._

There was such an air of sincerity in Magnus, the likes of which Alec had ever been around before. Disingenuous conduct was common among shadowhunters as a survival skill. The shade of superiority that tainted their actions and place in the world was a deadly poison and it spread quickly. If Alec were immortal, he thought he would get easily worn from tolerating the meaningless things and want to seek out what would stand the test of time instead. Maybe that was what Magnus was doing too.

_I have been thinking about theoretically putting together a downworld cabinet, a gathering of all of the representatives, on a regular basis,_ Alec divulged. He hadn’t ever spoken to anyone in detail about this notion save for Isabelle because it was only a skeleton for the moment. Somehow, though, he felt that Magnus would understand and take him seriously. Maybe even be able to help him better formulate a strategy of execution. _To share information, concerns. To strengthen our alliances in trust and dependability. If everyone were given a platform to present their thoughts as an equal, maybe we could start to put things back together better than they had been._

Magnus’ expression implied astonishment, and his tone was one of pleasant surprise. _That is a magnificent idea, Alexander._ Dropping his formal title in favor of something more familiar wasn’t lost on Alec. It meant something to him, and he would likely tuck it away for a particularly dark night when he needed it most. _It has been proposed in the past with little to no success as memory serves, but you are not a reflection of your predecessors. If anyone could make it their achievement, I think it would be you. Have you proposed this yet?_

Alec shook his head, turning his back on the city lights. _Not yet. For now, it is still just an abstract thought._

Magnus expelled his empty martini glass in a wave of magic before looking back at Alec. _As soon as it becomes something more tangible, let me know_. _It would be my pleasure to support your endeavor._

Alec’s phone vibrating in his pocket forced his attention away, and it was with undeniable discontent that he looked down at the screen. It was a text from Jace, asking him where he had gone off to.

_Duty calls?_ Magnus guessed, starting towards the open doors. _I should be taking my leave anyway—I have a tonic that needs to be finished for tomorrow morning and I believe I have delayed long enough._ Between one moment and the next, he had called up a portal, shimmering faintly. _I so enjoyed our chat tonight, Mr. Lightwood. Until next time._ He disappeared within the portal, and it snapped closed behind him.

Their conversation was the highlight of Alec’s evening—the remainder of it passed uneventfully. The guests filtered out and disappeared into the night with portals and glamours, leaving the Institute’s main hall empty once more.

After a brief check in with Underhill in the ops center, he retired to his room for the evening.

A hot shower before bed was all he wanted. It wasn’t at all uncommon for his brain to still be running a mile a minute even when he crawled under the covers and closed his eyes, but a shower helped to alleviate some of the stress that manifested in his body. The bathroom immediately filled with steam once the water began to flow, and the air was hot and thick.

As he rubbed soap into his skin, he could still smell some of the sweetness of the smoke from Magnus’ cigarette. It had lingered on him, like it wanted to stay. It was an embarrassing thing to be happy about, to be sure, but it was all his. He wondered if magic caressing his skin might feel the same as the smoke did, wondered if it had its own specific smell that Alec would be able to pinpoint.

It feels a little bit invasive to think about something like that with Magnus—even after hearing the rumors that he’s bisexual, it feels tremendously prideful and invasive to imagine being the recipient of his affection. Maybe he was seeing someone, and he was intruding on a commitment by imagining that spark was real.

He’d gone to sleep with more peaceful thoughts.

*          *          *          *

As the week unfolded, the times during which he could spare a thought were few and far between, but a few of those few drifted to Magnus Bane and his smile like the sunshine.

He was barely in the Institute at all on Friday, between a meeting with the Inquisitor and consuls and an impromptu mission, which gave him less time to spend overthinking which Isabelle had always said was one of his greatest deterrents.

A nest of lesser demons had been detected by Brooklyn Bridge Park, but the species was yet to be identified. Alec insisted on scoping it out himself, and brought Isabelle and Jace with him. There were no traces of ichor residue anywhere along the way, but Isabelle’s bracelet began to glow steadily to lead the way.

_What if this is some kind of demon we’ve never seen before?_ Jace questioned, rolling the hilt of his seraph blade against his palm.

Isabelle stopped in her tracks and looked at him long-sufferingly. _Do you have any idea how many variants of demons and demon-blooded creatures exist? I would be shocked if we never came across at least one demon we had no record of._

Alec rolled his eyes, scanning the ground for any trace of prints to follow to give them a more specific route. A soft but shrill sound caught his attention and he froze, eyebrows furrowed. _Hey, Jace, Iz._

His siblings stopped their bickering and turned to look at him, deflating.

_Do you hear anything?_ he asked, pulling an arrow from the quiver and seamlessly nocking his bow.

In response, Jace and Isabelle armed themselves and fell into a defensive stance beside him.

The odd squealing noise that Alec was hearing grew louder, and made him grimace slightly. It sounded like feedback from his hearing aids, but he couldn’t understand how that could be. His chin jerked reflexively in a futile attempt to avoid the sound.

_Are you okay?_ Isabelle reached out to him, placing a steading hand on his arm.

Before he could respond, to try to explain what was happening, a large, scaled demon burst through the trees on all fours with its mouth open. The earsplitting sound grew fast and high in his ears, drowning out any thoughts he’d previously held. He cried out, dropping his bow to clutch at his head and felt something hot and sticky dripping from his ears. Blood.

Jace had sprung into action, slashing his blade aggressively at the demon only to miss each time. It moved fast and seemed to have double jointed appendages that bent at odd angles to evade him. It opened its mouth and the sound returned again, blood oozing through Alec’s fingers.

It must have been calling reinforcements with its apparent cry, because five more demons identical to the first appeared. Their scales were matte black with white outlining that showed the tessellated way they fit on their bodies, and their hands and feet were not really hands or feet but rather a sprouting of three long black talons each. Their bodies were narrow and thin, and came to a long point with the tail. They had bright white irises that took up the remainder of the eyeball, and their mouths were little slits from which a grey tongue protruded when they shrieked.

Alec had no choice but to turn off his hearing aids, the feedback in his ear too strong to bear. He picked up his bow again and realigned the arrow before shooting at the demon that began to rush towards him. When the arrowhead hit its mark, the demon exploded in spark, ash, and ichor, and he got covered in all three.

Isabelle’s whip captured one around the chest, and Jace’s blade pierced through two at once.

Before Alec could nock his next arrow, the last remaining demon flicked its long tail, and the force of it knocked all three of them back, skidding against the rough concrete. Jace was the first one to get back to his feet, but that served fruitless when the demon’s tail swung back at him again and sent him barreling over the railing of the bridge into the East River.

With Isabelle’s whip subduing the creature, Alec had a clear shot. In a large shower of embers, the demon dissipated and the arrow that had sunk into it clattered to the ground.

Going over to the railing to look into the dark water, Isabelle and Alec searched for Jace—he wasn’t hard to spot; golden hair was striking in murky water. He was in one piece, swimming to shore easily enough.

_Are you okay?_ Izzy asked Alec, turning her attention to him to blot at the blood on his cheeks gingerly.

_The sounds those demons made emitted such a high frequency that it caused feedback,_ Alec explained. He tried turning his hearing aids back on but was unsurprised when they didn’t respond. The electrical system was fried.

Reaching into her back pocket for her stele, Isabelle frowned when she came up with a mangled lump of adamas. Alec reached for his own, only to find it in a similar state.

Jace was soaked all the way through and smelled tremendously unpleasant when he rejoined them. _I lost my stele in the water_.

_Both of you get back to the Institute; after you finish writing up your reports, do some digging in our demon archives and see if you can find anything we can use. We need to figure out what those were._ Alec moved on instinct to glamour his bow and arrow but caught himself before he could reach into his pocket for his now useless stele. _I know someone I think might be able to help._

They parted ways with Jace and Izzy disappearing into the night and Alec heading for the gravel path.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Alec texted Underhill at the Institute. _I need a quick favor. Can you get me the phone number and address we have on file for Magnus Bane?_ As luck would have it, his apartment building wasn’t far from where Alec was—he could make it on foot in about ten minutes.

He typed out a carefully worded text summation of the events that had transpired and looked it over twice before determining it to be sufficient. Thumb hovering over the send button, Alec hesitated for a moment. He hated to interrupt, to just show up at Magnus’ home and ask him for something. It seemed vaguely inappropriate, and he worried that Magnus might think he’s being taken advantage of. After one more beat of consideration, he sent it off.

It took about five minutes to get a response—a short reply, inviting Alec to come over to peruse his relevant tomes and journals. Even though it was brief, it didn’t seem cold or uncomfortable, and that was a good sign.

Magnus’ apartment building, Nightingale Towers, was one of the most elaborately elegant buildings Alec had ever seen with his own eyes. It looked like the kind of place he would expect someone like the high warlock to live. Penthouse One, the grandest living space in the building, to be exact. Even the button for the penthouse was set apart from the others on the panel in the elevator. Alec’s grimy, blood caked finger looked supremely unworthy next to the gold lettering.

A brief knock against the door was all it took before it was opening to reveal Magnus, already prepared with a welcoming smile. The smile faded quickly, however, as he took Alec’s appearance in. _What happened to you? Come in._ He ushered Alec in insistently and pushed him down onto the plush pillows of a large couch that Alec felt immediately concerned to be sullying.

_I am fine,_ Alec dismissed, scratching self-consciously at the dried blood on his jaw. _These demons we came across emitted a high frequency sound that my hearing aids could not process and they broke. But everything is fine, seriously._

Magnus just stared at him concernedly, mouth slightly agape, before he reached towards his face carefully with eyebrows raised in silent question. He was asking for consent.

Alec nodded and reached up to remove his hearing aids. He never took them off in company, never exposed himself like that in front of someone else. Even without the capability to function as they should, even as nothing but dead weight on his ears, they were a sense of security for him. They were the only tether he had to the hearing world, even being tenuous and fragile.

But it wasn’t just that.

Removing the aids from his ears revealed the scars he had spent his entire life working to hide. There were remnants of the inadequate runes the Silent Brothers had tried to use on him as a child per his parents’ request, immortalized as faded white scars. They made him feel damaged in his worst moments, reminded him that he was a disappointment even before he did anything to earn the identifier.

He knew that if Magnus knew how he felt he would never fault him for his hesitation. But the fact of the matter was he didn’t know—couldn’t know—and was concerned for his wellbeing. So he carefully unhooked each piece from his ear and clenched them in his fist.

With glowing fingertips, Magnus reached for the side of his head again. His magic felt like the gentlest caress against his skin, like the brush of a butterfly’s wings. Like what he imagined a lover’s touch might feel like. There was a cool sensation that followed, curling inside of his ear and soothing it. And then came a more insistent touch, warmer and heavier—Magnus’ probing fingers, kneading more magic into his skin. His focus was singular, directed entirely into Alec, and that felt even stranger than the magic. The faint pucker between his eyebrows emphasized the extent of his focus.

_Thank you._ The back of Alec’s hand touched the inside of Magnus’ wrist and he held very still for a moment, holding them together. It felt good, to touch Magnus like this, as more than a dignified and distant greeting. It was…tender and he had never shared that with someone before. All those times he’d wondered what it might be like to touch Magnus more familiarly, wondered how it would be to trust himself to someone like that. A soldier was never treated carefully, particularly in the way they were touched. It didn’t take much of it for Alec to decide he liked it a lot, to realize how much he had been wanting it.

Sliding his arm down until the back of Alec’s hand was cradled in his palm, Magnus smiled modestly. _Of course, Alexander. Let me see if I can fix these._ He put his hand over the one Alec had closed in a fist around his discarded hearing aids. _At least temporarily._ Coaxing Alec’s fist open, he sent a pulse of magic over them, knitting the fried circuitry back together and then gently picking them up to offer back to Alec.

With a burst of unfounded confidence, Alec leaned forward towards him and turned his head to offer his ear.

Magnus moved carefully, gently securing the mechanism so as not to cause Alec any pain. After years of training and battle, Alec had developed quite a threshold for pain and familiarity with being treated roughly because he could take it. Magnus knew that of him, surely, and yet he still handled him with care.

_Try them now,_ he said, sitting back to observe.

Alec reached up and turned them on, the familiar sound of gentle static humming in his ear. _Thank you, so much Magnus._

_Please, that was nothing,_ Magnus waved off, getting to his feet. _Now, about this demon of yours. I have a few things I think might be able to help determine what you are dealing with._ A stack of old and weathered books of varying degrees of thickness appeared on the coffee table, along with two mugs emitting steam. _A bit of tea seems in order as well, after the evening you have had._

The hot ceramic against his palms was grounding and comforting, and Alec smiled in gratitude around the rim of the mug. From the smell, it was chamomile tea.

_Now, we have some reading to get through._ Magnus walked over to the mantle where a stereo was mounted and hit a series of buttons before making a clean turn away from it with a satisfied grin.

The vibrations from the volume of the music were easy to feel pulsing in the floor, shaking the glass of the table if Alec pressed gently. He wondered what kind of music Magnus liked, what made him want to dance, what he liked to hum under his breath. The fingers of his free hand that weren’t wrapped around the mug tapped against the table with the tremors.

Looking at him questioningly, Magnus took a seat on the couch and picked up his own mug.

_I can feel the pulsing of the music,_ Alec explained, pressing his palm against the tabletop to show him. _I find it relaxing._

“Ah,” Magnus said in understanding. _Shall we get to work?_ He picked through a few volumes before handing on to Alec. _Give that one a try._

As soon as he flipped open the cover, a small dust cloud erupted. Alec coughed in surprise, waving the particles out of his face and away from his nose. _How long has it been since you cracked one of these things open?_ he asked, playfully accusatory.

_I admit it_ has _been awhile,_ Magnus replied evasively, pursing his lips around a smile and opening a leather-bound journal.

Oddly enough, it felt easy as breathing to be working alongside Magnus. Late nights in the Institute library with eyes straining to read fine-printed Latin in the faint light of a vintage table lamp was what Alec was used to. Drinking coffee that had gone cold while taking notes on his laptop until the early hours of the morning were common practice. This, sitting beside Magnus, looking through priceless records of long forgotten knowledge, was something entirely different. He was certainly not the most easily adaptable individual by any means—it took time for him to make sense of his surroundings and circumstances—and yet there was nothing he felt the need to question about this foreign setting.

The more pages Alec flicked through, the most dust got kicked up, and his eyes grew itchy and sore after an indeterminate amount of time. Blinking rapidly to try to clear the film of grime that seemed to have settled over his eyes, he leaned back against the couch.

Magnus looked up from his own reading and offered a look of sympathy. _Sorry, some of these are a bit aged._ He gestured to the discarded mug of tea on the coffee table and asked _Would you like a refill?_

When the mug was once again steaming and the scent of chamomile rekindled, Alec reached for it. _I really appreciate your assistance, Magnus. I know it was very short notice and… rude to barge in like I did._

_I am the high warlock, Alexander. Using my abilities to assist others is in the job description. And besides that, I am your ally to call on in times of trouble._ He paused for a moment, seeming to be contemplating his next words. _You were hurt, too. I am glad you came to me._

_I don’t want you to think that this is all you are to me. That I just expect you to…drop everything and help me because I’m a shadowhunter and I expect to be helped. That is not who I am. And I want you to know that._

_I do know that, Alexander. I never thought that of you._ His eyes were warm and kind, but there was a distinct undercurrent below that spoke of tremendous sadness. Like someone who has been hurt many times, and still feels that old familiar pain when being grateful for the new compassion. _I have known many selfish people in my time, worked for them, for lack of a better term, and I can tell you that you are not like them._

_I am sure being a warlock, you often get treated like a genie in a bottle._ Alec had heard the horrible tales of hunting warlocks for sport, taking their marks for trophies. They were treated as a means to an end until they no longer served their purpose, and it turned Alec’s stomach. It always had made him supremely uncomfortable, but he’d never been as close to the disparity as this. _I know that downworlders are treated appallingly at time, and Valentine and his Circle certainly did not help matters. That is why rebuilding better is so important._

_The Circle committed heinous crimes, some of which had been committed even before its inception,_ Magnus began, crossing one leg over the other to lounge more comfortably. _Being treated as lesser than the children of the Angel was not something they invented. It was a lesson I learned centuries ago, when I was child. It is…tremendously difficult to acclimate alone and I made a promise to myself that if ever there was a young downworlder in need of a mentor, a support system, I would do my damnedest._

Alec was still for a moment, thinking carefully about his next words. _It must have been incredibly difficult for you as a child. Having one human parent and one demon parent…_

_My mother took her life when I was very young, because she could not bear the guilt of having given birth to a demon blooded creature._

A heaviness sat in Alec’s chest from Magnus’ words, but underneath it was a sense of resignation that it was now in his hands to make changes.

_I can understand to a degree what it is like to be considered a disappointment for existing,_ he admitted candidly. _My parents were completely distraught that their firstborn son was born deaf. They had wanted a new head of the Lightwood lineage who could be the quintessential shadowhunter and the bearer of the legacy. Particularly after their involvement with the Circle decades ago. A disabled son was already by definition the antithesis of what they had hoped for. So I overcompensated in every way I could think of—trained longer, studied harder… Stayed closeted._

Magnus raised his eyebrows at that, but pressed no further. _I can empathize,_ was his reply.

Comfortable stillness overtook them after that, drinking their tea and returning their attention to their reading. Alec had made it through nearly half of the tome Magnus had given him before his eyelids began to droop and exhaustion started to set in, so he closed them to rest for a moment.

When they opened again, however, the rising sun had set the room ablaze in fiery pastels of red and orange. He sat bolt upright, the open tome he had fallen asleep with in his lap falling to the floor. It took a moment to reorient to his surroundings, to remember he was in Magnus’ loft. It was obvious from the furnishings that he was not in the Institute—he had never been surrounded by such decadence. Or awoken to the smells of…freshly made pancakes and bacon?

Alec turned around and saw Magnus puttering around in the kitchen, his back to the living room. It was pleasant to watch his graceful movements as he reached easily for various items and worked the stove.

Standing up slowly as his joints popped and flexed, he padded over to the breakfast bar. _I am sorry I fell asleep on you._

Magnus looked over at him, rolling his eyes. _Stop apologizing for everything, Alexander. It is perfectly fine. You needed rest._ Setting a plate crammed with homemade breakfast foods in front of him, he gave a triumphant wave of his spatula. _Eat._

Just as he was about to comply, Alec noticed one of the books Magnus had had out last night lying open. The illustration depicted a demon that looked just like the one he had seen the night before. His fork fell from his hand as he moved to get a closer look. _This is it, Magnus. This is the demon we saw last night._

Tilting his head for a better look, Magnus scanned the page. _Congratulations, your city is the proud host to an ancient Sumerian lesser demon._ His fingers moved fluidly above the page, magic skimming across the words, and coalescing into paragraphs on a page he offered to Alec. _For your files at the Institute._

_I really appreciate all of this, Magnus._ Taking the paper, Alec glanced over it—not only had the information been transferred, but it had also been translated into English. _Seriously, thank you._

_I do require payment for services rendered, however._ Magnus pushed Alec’s plate closer to him. _I was thinking breakfast._

*          *          *          *

Following the fateful evening at Magnus’, the thought of making the downworld cabinet a reality continued to crop up in Alec’s mind.

There was so much history and knowledge that each faction possessed that they all kept private for self-preservation, for safety. There was so much they could learn from one another, and their world could grow so much stronger. The Shadow World was left to splinter apart, and that was how the Circle came to be—there had to be change to move forward. History was only doomed to repeat itself when there was no fundamental evolution. A realm divided wouldn’t be able to stand up to a threat for long without falling, and another radical movement like Valentine Morgenstern’s could topple them all if they remained this way.

Truthfully, he didn’t know what the response would be if he were to propose this idea to the downworld representatives. He knew the Clave would disapprove greatly, though; he would be laughed out of the room for such a naïve perspective.

After narrowly missing a half-hearted jab from Isabelle with her staff, Alec sighed, dropping his own and running his hands through his sweat-damp hair. _I’m sorry, I just have some things on my mind,_ he explained.

_Really? I had not noticed,_ Isabelle replied sarcastically. Setting down her own staff, she walked over to the bench in the corner where their water bottles sat. _Do you want to talk about it?_ she offered between sips.

With an aborted nod, Alec leaned against the concrete pillar closest to her. _I have been thinking about putting together a downworld cabinet—a meeting with every representative of New York’s factions on a regular basis._

Izzy set down her water and looked at him in surprise. _Wow, that is a huge step!_

_I have no idea if any of them would even be receptive to the idea, but it seems worth a try. Something has to give_.

_If you want to do this, then I support you completely. You are the head of the Institute for a reason, Alec. You are capable and ready to lead._ Tossing him a towel, Izzy wrapped her own around her neck. _We all trust your judgement._

Alec rolled his eyes derisively. _Not all._

_Fuck them,_ she says simply. It makes Alec smile.

Isabelle has always been the one who allowed herself the freedom to be who she wanted to be, regardless of whatever judgmental responses she might receive. It had started young for her, and instead of shame, her learned behavioral response was pride. Her wardrobe choices often caused their mother to fume with disdain and scold with coarseness, her love life was often the topic of disparaging gossip from the halls of the Institute to the barstools of Hunter’s Moon, and her lax view of downworlder relations was often the cause of scandalized looks and disbelief in her diplomacy. Even her rune ceremony was cause for scandalized whispers—Alec had never seen his parents so angry before when she chose the spot just above the valley between her breasts for her angelic rune. But despite all of that, she continued to hold her head high and believe in what she knew she had mastered.

He could afford to be a little more like his baby sister.

_It would probably be better if I could just say that and have it over with,_ Alec smirked. _Do you really think it would be worthwhile?_

_Downworlders want to be treated as equals—they want to have a relationship with shadowhunters if it’s one of evenhandedness and impartiality. They rarely felt safe in Nephilim circles because they were treated as second class citizens or worse._ Isabelle gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. _What can it hurt to try?_

It took a few more days for him to work up the initiative to set the gears in motion, but he managed it. A brief invitation was sent to Luke Garroway, the alpha of the New York werewolf pack, Raphael Santiago, the head of the New York vampire coven, Meliorn, the representative for the Seelie Queen, and, of course, Magnus Bane, high warlock of Brooklyn, requesting their presence at the downworld cabinet hosted by Alec Lightwood, head of the New York Institute where personal matters and political entanglements could be openly discussed.

The first acceptance Alec received by fire message was Magnus. He couldn’t deny the happiness that nestled behind his ribs as a warm presence in his chest. The second was Luke Garroway, an old acquaintance of his parents’—a good man, in Alec’s experience. Raphael Santiago didn’t send a reply until the evening before, and it was curt and hardly friendly, but at least it was an affirmative response. Meliorn sent no reply, but Seelies tended not to engage in other parties’ etiquette in a timely manner.

The night before the cabinet meeting, Alec got a text from Magnus.

**[From: Magnus Bane, 10:59pm]**

**Alexander-**

**I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. I’m very pleased that you have decided to follow through on this endeavor; I’ve heard through the grapevine that all who were invited have accepted. I don’t like to stroke my own ego so I won’t say I told you so…**

Chuckling to himself, Alec leaned back against the headboard of his bed and started to formulate his reply.

**[From: A. Lightwood, 11:02pm]**

**I’m really glad that you will be there, I hoped you would. We will just have to wait and see how things unfold because I tell you you were right—this could be a spectacular failure.**

**[From: Magnus Bane, 11:04pm]**

**Do you doubt my tremendous intuitive abilities, Alexander?**

**[From: A. Lightwood, 11:05pm]**

**I didn’t say that.**

**[From: Magnus Bane, 11:08pm]**

**You didn’t not say it either. When it turns out that I’m right, how about we toast your success with drinks?**

**[From: A. Lightwood, 11:11pm]**

**If it ends up being my success but your prediction, then who’s buying?**

**[From: Magnus Bane, 11:16pm]**

**Considering I was the one doing the asking and you the one doing the accepting, it’s simply good manners for me to be the one buying. Besides, you should never trust a stingy warlock when they have an eternity to acquire wealth.**

**[From: A. Lightwood, 11:18pm]**

**I’ll remember that.**

**[From: A. Lightwood, 11:18pm]**

**And that sounds like fun, when?**

**[From: Magnus Bane, 11:21pm]**

**How about tomorrow, right after the meeting?**

**[From: A. Lightwood, 11:23pm]**

**Sounds good (:**

**[From: Magnus Bane, 11:25pm]**

**Did Alec Lightwood just use an emoticon? I am impressed!**

They chatted back and forth with light conversation for another ten minutes before Alec regretfully informed Magnus that he had to go to bed. He hated to say goodnight when he felt so dangerously light talking to him.

Interacting with Magnus produced a peaceful kind of happiness—no strings attached, no sacrifice to make, no asterisk to fine print. He felt like he was just a person worthy of someone’s time rather than a Lightwood with duty and responsibility weighing heavy on his shoulders or obligations to fulfill in order to be deemed satisfactory. Magnus was the only person with whom being called “Alexander” didn’t feel rife with obligation. The only person Alec never felt a sense of inadequacy or out of place around. The only person to look at him and see the person Alec believed himself to be underneath what he had to be and what he couldn’t change.  

Above all, Magnus brought him a peace unlike any he’d ever known.

And when he was the first to arrive for the cabinet meeting, Alec felt that familiar rush under his skin.

Annalise stood motionless at his side, now well aware that the two of them conversed directly with one another, and looked tactfully away from their hands.

_Lovely to see you, Mr. Lightwood,_ Magnus greeted, his chest puffed up slightly with playful bravado.

Holding his hand out for a dignified handshake, Alec attempted to school his expression into one of graceful solemnity. _And you, Mr. Bane. Thank you for taking the time._

_I wouldn’t miss it. I have tremendous respect for the new head of the New York Institute._

_And I for the new high warlock of Brooklyn. It is our honor to host you._

Luke Garroway caught Alec’s eye as he entered the double doors next, coming up behind Magnus to be received.

He turned to point out the refreshments table along the side wall. _Please help yourself to coffee or tea as we wait for the remainder of our guests to arrive._  

Magnus swept past him with a nod, and the smell of sandalwood lingered in his wake. It seemed to cling to Alec, permeating the air around him, staying with him.

After a moment to recalibrate his thoughts, Alec offered his hand in greeting to Luke. _Mr. Garroway, I am so pleased you are able to join us today._ He paused as Annalise interpreted, watching Luke’s expression.

He’d always felt that he had a very kind face; his smiles were always measured whenever Alec saw them, but they were genuine, and his features were soft and open. At first, he had been surprised to learn that Luke worked for the NYPD, but the more he observed him, the more sense it made. His was built lean and strong with broad shoulders and long legs, well suited for a cop. He wasn’t ever quick to emotions, and seemed to prefer to observe his surroundings and those that inhabited it. Perhaps they would be friends as time unfolded, Alec thought to himself.

“I was happy to receive the invite, Alec. This is quite an undertaking, and I look forward to being part of it.”

Raphael Santiago and Meliorn entered the Institute main hall consecutively some time later. Meliorn hung back, taking in the comparatively sterile and cold environment of the Institute. Raphael looked marginally stunned at Alec’s introduction in sign language, but schooled his expression back into passive disinterest after a moment.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Lightwood. Raphael Santiago.” He didn’t smile or offer any kind of warm gesture. He came across as tremendously guarded, though not one to be taken for skittish or flappable. There was a long white scar along his left cheekbone that stood out in the lighting, Alec noticed, and he seemed to lean into the way it affected his image.

Meliorn, on the other hand, was overflowing with slightly haughty ease when he approached Alec. There was a self-assuredness he’d always had for as long as Alec had known him, and he still didn’t quite understand how Isabelle had dated him for as long as she did. Though, admittedly, it was a predominantly physical relationship, and he was an attractive man. The way the leaves and vines that adorned from his jaw to his temple framed his face appealingly and there was something about his eyes that drew one in without a second thought. “Lightwood. I am intrigued to see what you are attempting here with all of us. I trust it will be more worthwhile than the last meeting I was called to attend here under the previous Institute head.”

Filtering into Alec’s office, everyone took a seat around the round table that had been brought in to replace the coffee table, and the couch had been pushed back against the wall to accommodate high-backed chairs. Flames were alight in the fireplace in what Alec hoped would be a soothing feature of a calm atmosphere. In the center of the tabletop were assorted baked goods and another pot of coffee with a stack of mugs beside it.

Annalise took her place beside Alec and awaited his start.

_I know that this is unconventional,_ he began, looking at each member of the cabinet in turn. _But_ _I also know that relations between shadowhunters and downworlders have been disproportionately prejudiced and it has caused damage I can’t undo. However, we are in a position where good can come from tremendous evil—with Valentine Morgenstern and the Circle destroyed, the Shadow World is in a state of reconstruction. It was vulnerable to Valentine because of the way it was divided, and we all suffered for it. No one was left untouched when the war broke out—the hierarchy created was not only unjust but ineffective to protect anyone in the end. Our world is in the unique position of being primed for change. All change takes time and I am certainly not going to stand here and say that I am the one who will bring everlasting peace to us all, but I think if there were ever a time to reevaluate our terms with one another, it would be now. I have proposed this cabinet because I want there to be a platform for every faction to be represented and heard by the others. It will be founded on transparency concerning matters of political and social impact. Our realms have had differences and stained histories, but if we want to survive, I think we need to be open to alteration._ For a moment, no one replied; they simply considered his declaration and looked to one another for reactions.

Meliorn was the first to respond. “Alec Lightwood is not the first Nephilim representative to hold a council like this and declare a time of evolution and amendment. The time of the Accords was meant to be the start of a new and superior epoch, and yet we’ve now come to see how it ended. I don’t doubt his truthfulness in what he considers his allegiance to this…project, but we have no reason to believe he is somehow more willing to keep his word without proof.”

_I know there have been numerous failings in our past,_ Alec agreed. _I understand your hesitance. I have been considering this cabinet for some time, however, and speak on behalf of the entirety of the Shadow World, not just the shadowhunters._

“I think it’s important to recall that Mr. Lightwood played a crucial part in keeping the Mortal Instruments out of Valentine’s hands,” Luke spoke up, fingers steepled in a thoughtful posture. “And he was one of the few lines of defense that protected the wish from the Angel.”

Alec shot him a grateful smile, and Luke returned it with an earnest nod.

“If I may add to that,” Magnus interjected, “Mr. Lightwood speaks also on behalf of the Shadow World in its entirety, as the whole made up of pieces rather than the pieces that make up the whole. Such forward thinking should be commended rather than discouraged.”

Meliorn shifted in his seat to face Alec more directly. “Valentine Morgenstern was a shadowhunter,” he asserted. “There were plenty of reasons for the Clave to endorse the eradication of him and all of his revolutionaries given how well they reflected the bigotry that some Nephilim still base their life’s work around.”

Raphael shook his head at Meliorn once, then looked down at the tabletop that he had his palms splayed on. “This isn’t enough of a gamble to cause this much dissent—were it to fail, we hardly lose, but if it succeeds, we have the potential to gain tremendously. Why not allow Mr. Lightwood to proceed. It’s no skin off our noses.”

Looking amused, Magnus put his hand on Raphael’s shoulder, earning himself an impishly provoked frown. “The voice of pessimism has spoken in favor. I would say that gives us an answer.”

Everyone but Meliorn appeared to be placated, but at least his expression had thawed. His shoulders relaxed back into his chair and he waved two fingers dismissively in acquiescence.

Alec released breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and his shoulders sagged slightly as the pressure bled from his chest. Somehow, he had done it; something tremendous and vaguely monstrous had yielded. And as the members of the newly solidified council filtered out of his office, it almost felt as if he had imagined it all, like some kind of elaborate daydream.

Except Magnus had lingered, standing opposite Alec with his forearms anchored on the back of his chair. _I think I might actually be too proud a man not to say I told you so,_ he teased.

_I think that is probably pretty fair,_ Alec relented with a smile. The overwhelming urge to reach out to Magnus, to touch his hand that was _right there_ burned hot inside him.

Magnus looked down, and for a moment Alec was terrified he somehow had developed the capability to read thoughts. _You did not surprise me today, Alexander. You never needed the feather to fly after all, and I think you are the only one surprised by that._

_What does Dumbo have to do with anything?_

Magnus laughed, a full and bright laugh that made his shoulders tremble and his eyes crinkle at the corners, and by the Angel, Alec wished he could swallow that joy and keep it for himself so it couldn’t dissipate.

_How about that drink, Alexander?_ Magnus asked, straightening up and moving towards Alec’s desk until something stopped him in his tracks.

Puzzled, Alec followed him and looked over his shoulder. He was holding the vase that still housed the King Protea that he had given to Alec the day they met. Throwing it away hadn’t felt like a viable option for Alec, and he knew nothing about preserving flowers, so he had simply continued to give it fresh water, light sunlight, and whatever else he could do to provide life support.

Magnus turned to face him, plucking the dry and wilting flower from the water and tucking it into the breast pocket of Alec’s blazer. _I would say we have made quite a wonderful new beginning for ourselves, haven’t we?_

Swallowing around the lump that was rising in his throat, Alec nodded. _Yes, I think so._

One moment his hands were moving back down to his side and the next they were gripping the lapels of Magnus’ jacket. The burst of bravery it took to get to this point had rapidly run out, and now he was frozen, his knuckles white with how tightly, how desperately, they clung to Magnus.

But it didn’t matter, because Magnus inclined his head towards Alec’s and one of his smooth hands slid up the back of Alec’s neck and into his hairline at the base of his skull. The fire that pooled in Alec’s gut erupted like a volcano and raced through his veins, setting his blood ablaze as their lips touched.

Whenever Alec had imagined his first kiss, he pictured it taking a backseat to the shame he would inevitably feel—shame for being gay, shame for being an adult who had yet to be kissed, shame for whatever he would undoubtedly be doing wrong. With someone as practically perfect as Magnus Bane, it seemed like overkill to even question whether those thoughts would buzz angrily in Alec’s head and claim this strange and wonderful moment from him.

Except it didn’t.

Alec’s mind was blissfully blank save for the errant thought that for all his faith, he was worshipping at the altar of Magnus’ lips, blessed by the Angel Raziel shining down on them with the warmth of the sunlight filtering through the stained glass.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](http://royaltybane.tumblr.com)


End file.
